


Ascent

by Tinyshot



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Angst, Dark Knight Quest (Final Fantasy XIV) Spoilers, Dark Knight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Dragoon Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinyshot/pseuds/Tinyshot
Summary: The world was gray and black for so long… not since…But then he came into her path. Or she came into his. They clashed and broke and she was defeated. And again. And again she rose. And only when she fought him did she see the color of the world again.Only with him did she feel her heart beating against her chest like a caged bird, eager to take flight.The thrill. The chase. The hunt.-The alternative universe where Warrior of Light takes Zenos' offer to leave with him and actually does.





	1. Chapter 1

"Come with me."

The ringing silence after the unbelievable roar of battle is all-enveloping. Smothering. She can't look away from his outstretched hand.

He took off his glove. The skin is pale and smooth, and yet in the light of dying sun, she can see the raised scars and calluses. A human hand. A normal hand.

The scent of flowers is wafting in her face. So sweet. Can scent be red? It smells red, blood red…

"Are you alright?" Alphinaud and Lyse have finally caught up to her. To them.

"Zenos!" Lyse growls. They stop, flanking her, yet a step behind. Afraid of the one they bark at, for they know they are no match.

"Come with me…"

Slowly, so very slowly she drags her gaze up to his arm and shoulder, up to the undefended neck - how easy would it be to pierce it with her rapier and let his life flow out - and to his face. His eyes.

She doesn't think he had to repeat himself often. If ever. Yet he did it just now, for her. He didn't plead. Didn't order. Only offer… like an equal.

Equal. How long has it been since anyone spoke to her like that? She can't remember. Was it ever?

The air is intoxicating. So fresh and sweet and dry and hot. The sky is blue, so blue and purple and pink in the distance. How long has it been since she noticed that? Cared to notice that?

The world was gray and black for so long… not since…

But then he came into her path. Or she came into his. They clashed and broke and she was defeated. And again. And again she rose. And only when she fought him did she see the color of the world again.

Only with him did she feel her heart beating against her chest like a caged bird, eager to take flight.

The thrill. The chase. The hunt.

She is dizzy… or did she forget to breathe?

His eyes stare into her very soul. She cannot know what he feels or thinks but she has a suspicion, had for a while…

He is the same. He is bored, bored out of his mind, with the world drained of color and scent and chase. But then he met her.

The pinnacle is high and alluring, yet when you reach it… no one tells you how lonely it is. How empty and devoid of challenge and meaning.

His hand is still outstretched, his skin so pale it nearly glows in the golden evening light.

"Preposterous! How can you even suggest she can do such a…"

Step.

Alphinaud chokes on his own words, she can hear it. But she doesn't look. She doesn't need to.

Step.

The very edges of his mouth turn up. His eyes shine bright with inner light she hasn't seen in him outside of battle.

Step.

Flowers stems and grass crunch underfoot, releasing more and more scent, enveloping her. Oh, how sweet it is. How pure and joyful. How bright.

Step.

She is in front of him. She is tall, and yet he towers over her. His smile grows, becoming ecstatic. She reaches out...

"No! Stop!"

She feels it, hears it as Lyse is flying through the air towards her, like a blood red arrow. But she had seen this trick before. Without looking, she catches Lyse’s fist with her other hand.

A wave of force released and blocked washes over her, Zenos, Alphinaud and the entire courtyard. Alphinaud stumbles backward and falls, flower petals scatter through the air like a flock of startled birds.

And yet she and Zenos barely had their hair fussed. Lyse gasps and tries to wrench herself out of the grip.

Lyse is strong. But not strong enough.

A shove sends Lyse stumbling away from them. All the while she and Zenos are looking at each other. Barely blinking.

As if afraid that if either of them does, when they open their eyes the other one would not be there.

Slowly, or maybe it was the time that slowed, she raises her hand again. Carefully, gingerly, she places her hand on top of his. His long, strong fingers close over hers, and she is struck by how cool they are on her burning skin. When did she last feel the cold? The heat? Anything at all?

His eyes shine brightly as he lifts up her hand, still in his, and brings it up to his lips.

Her eyes grow wider as he leaves a featherlight kiss on her fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long while since I've written anything. Please let me know what you think... It's something I've wanted to read for a long time, but nothing scratched the itch. So I decided to write it.


	2. Chapter 2

Petals are floating around them, swirling and playing in the wind. The silence is only broken by Lyse’s heavy breathing.

Zenos is still holding her hand in his. He finally lifts his gaze away from her, and over her head to still prone Alphinaud. This time she follows him and turns, looking over her shoulder.

Alphinaud is struck dumb by the look of it. What would you say to this anyway?

“As promised before those two insects rushed in… I will recall my legion from Ala Mhigo. Let the rebels have it…”

She feels his gaze on her face and turns back to him, turning her back on her friends.

“As long as you come with me.”

“Where?”

Her throat is dry and scratchy. So long was the silence she kept, letting others speak for her. She almost forgot what her own voice sounds like. Did Zenos even hear her speak before?

“Does it matter?”

She thinks for just a heartbeat.

“No.”

He pulls her away, away from the bed of blood-red flowers, when Alphinaud finally picks himself up.

“Wait!”

She stops. Zenos makes another step, but he feels that she isn’t following, and pauses himself.

“Why?”

He sounds like he is about to cry. Alphinaud, the brave and ruthless diplomat… is still just a boy. She is reminded with a twinge of pain of his posturing, trying to seem taller for the people he spoke with, for his allies and for… Ysale. How desperately he wished to be seen as a man.

His voice is ringing with hurt and she twitches just a bit, wanting to pat him on the head and tell him that it’s going to be alright.

He has been betrayed before. But this… this is different… right?

“You heard him. The Empire will give up Ala Mhigo. You win.”

“We. Win! But we would have won anyway! He… he’s making our sacrifices meaningless!”

“My sacrifices. My war. It has become meaningless a long time ago, Alphie… I…”

Zenos tightens his grip on her hand and pulls her toward him with force, making her stumble towards him, crash into his breastplate and momentarily lose focus.

His other hand comes up under her chin and makes her head tilt up, to look at him. His face is blank as usual, but there is something… just a hint in the corners of his mouth, in the small crease between his eyebrows… disgust. Not with her, but with her response.

“The dragon cares not for the opinion of the ants.”

_We are the dragons._

“Do not make excuses to those who are far beneath you.”

His voice rings with true steel. Conviction. Deep, deep darkness. Something is eerily, disturbingly familiar about it…

**_You don’t say? I told you that before, but would you listen… but you listen to him, don’t you? I could have told you what that looks like... I suppose if that’s true, I guess one of your redeeming qualities is that you aren’t narcissistic. That would be weird._ **

Fray is standing right beside her, smirking. She can’t see his face, but she knows he is. It’s the voice. Sneering.

_I’m not…_

**_Whatever you have to tell yourself, darling…_ **

She looks at Alphinaud. At Lyse. At foreign land under foreign sky engrossed in the foreign war. A crushing sense of her own _otherness_ threatens to overwhelm her. She is out of place here. She is not welcome. All her pain, all her blood, all her sacrifices… meaningless and unappreciated. Forgotten.

Her brows knit together, and jaw sets in place. She looks at Zenos and nods.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait! Wait!”

But this time she doesn’t stop. Reaching up to her ear, she pulls her linkpearl out and drops it on the mosaic tiles. It bounces off with a series of satisfying clicks.

“I have finished your war. Do with your freedom what you wish… but I am done here.”

She walks away, pulled forward by the only other person in the world who understands… a part of her is dreading what’s to come. Dreading the choice she just made.

But that is just a small part of her. The rest…

To her it seemed that with every step she takes the weight on her shoulders is lighter, the crushing responsibility melting away like winter snow. She is free at last.

She looks up at the waiting airship, at the stunned crew watching their prince passing by, pulling along her, the dreaded and fabled Warrior of Light. The wide open eyes in the slits of the helmets, the deafening silence followed by a murmur like an ocean wave.

This wave will wash far and wide, and there is no way to stop it now, she realizes with sudden clarity. By tomorrow evening everyone and their mother will know… she had… she had...

She looks down at their hands, still joined together. An uncomfortable blush creeps up her neck and ears. But now is not the time to pull away, least Zenos thinks she has changed her mind.

She had _defected_.

By now Alphinaud and Lyse would have told the Alliance. They would have told Raubahn and Aymeric and Hien.

She closes her eyes, still following Zenos through the scarcely lit narrow passageways of the airship. The sudden lightness in her heart is gone almost instantly, just like it arose.

_Forgive me… my friends._

It seems impossible. A vision undulating between a dream and a nightmare. Nothing is real.

Nothing but his hand grasping hers tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it! Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

"Prince Zenos!"

The cockpit was full of curious panels, lights flashing on them, dials changing, gears turning. She focused her intrigued attention on them.

It was easier than to meet the eyes of the people staring at her. She could feel it, their terrified looks on her.

"We're leaving. Set course for the homeland."

"Yes, my lord."

Again, the silence interrupted only by the quiet ticking and light whirring of mechanical devices.

"My lord?"

"What is it, Captain?"

His tone is dangerously soft.

"May we offer congratulations… for your… ah… prize?"

This time she looks up, directly at the man who said it. The captain of the ship. He smiles nervously, but not at her. At Zenos.

"A prize indeed…" murmurs the prince.

"Shall I prepare the brig for our guest?"

Her eyes narrow, and without thinking, her hand tightens around Zenos' wide palm.

"What are you suggesting, Captain?" his voice is soft like silk, but she can sense the blade beneath it. "That our guest is to be caged like a petty criminal?"

"My lord…"

"She may be a savage beast, but…" she looks up at him, eyes still narrowed in anger. He is looking at her, his sapphire eyes deep and dark, "she is a being far greater than any of you. No… no, Captain, you shall prepare the brig for yourself."

The officer is trembling slightly, yet he salutes all the same.

"Lieutenant, have the Captain's cabin cleared out for my guest."

 

She is sitting quietly across from Zenos. In his cabin, while hers was being prepared. The food the servants placed in front of her is foreign in scent, unfamiliar. There is fruit she hasn't seen, and spices she hasn't smelled before. She also supposed the crown prince gets better fare then foot soldiers.

He doesn't make a move to start a conversation, simply dissecting his food with cold precision and unexpected grace. Though again, she supposed a member of a royal family was taught table manners since he was old enough to hold a spoon.

He looks strange without his armor. He still wears a uniform, with slightly more embellishment then his soldiers, finer cut and obviously made of better cloth. Her fingers twitch lightly, wanting to touch it, feel the softness of the fabric and fine detail of embroidery on the edge of his sleeve. Curse her love for the tailoring craft, she is fascinated with his clothes far more than she should be.

To distract herself, she looks at her plate. Simple metal, no gold or fine china. Though it perhaps would be unwise to bring delicate things on an airship, which can get pretty shaky.

"Eat. I wouldn't use something as base as poison against you."

"I wasn't thinking that."

She picks up her knife and fork.

"I just imagined that you would live in more… fancy quarters. You are a prince after all."

His room on the ship is pretty spartan. A bed, a table, two chairs, and servants had to even bring that second chair. A small desk, and an armoire.

"Weight considerations. It is a constant thought when operating an airship. Weight is the enemy of flight. Even a prince must bow before it."

"I didn't think you bowed to anyone. Or anything."

He laughs. It's not the same cold laugh she heard before. It's a touch, just a touch more animated. Warmer, by but a degree.

"Not yet. But soon enough, not even forces of nature would hold me back."

"Pathetic."

He freezes in place. If a gaze could burn, she would have burst into flames. She smiles at him.

"Letting gravity hold you back, just pathetic. I say, to hells with it. It's only a nuisance anyway."

"Oh?" He continues his motions, yet there is just a hint in the corners of his mouth, turning up of the corners of those sinfully beautiful lips. "So how does the eikon slayer proposes to defeat the force of nature?"

"Oh, I don't know yet. But I'm sure I could figure it out if I needed it badly enough."

She finally cuts into her food and takes a bite. It's rather good, whatever it is.

"Silly savage."

"I have a name, you know."

"That you do."

"And?"

"And I do not care."

She spears a piece of popoto with a little more force than necessary. The metal clangs against the bottom of the dish.

"Arrogant brute."

**_Oh come on, you can do better. Or better yet, let me…_ **

_Not now, go away._

**_A pity…_ **

Zenos continued to stare at her, smirking just slightly, oblivious of her internal dialogue.

"Do you enjoy taunting me?" She asks, meeting his gaze head-on.

"One of the finer pleasures in my life." He bows his head just slightly, mockingly.

"Ugh."

She rolls her eyes and continues to eat. The silence sets in again, but this time it is a comfortable one. It's odd, for she feels no need to fill the void in sound. They just eat, and even though they traded barbs, it has been… amusing. Liberating even.

If only he would use her name… she doesn't want to let him know it really bothers her. For years now she has been the Warrior of Light, even among her friends. Everyone calls her that. But that is not her name…

It is as if she fears that it might disappear, be forgotten, should no one say it for too long.

**_Silly savage._ **

_Not you too..._

She feels Fray's grin in the back of her mind.

 

A polite knock on the door, slightly hesitant and shaky. She can tell that by how irregular it is as if the owner can't decide when it would be appropriate to stop.

They had finished their meal some minutes before, and she busies herself with a small book Aymeric has given her what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Histories and Lore of the Dragoon Order", while Zenos is sipping wine. She can feel his eyes on her, but this time she refuses to acknowledge it.

"Come in." Zenos' tone returned to familiar bored drawl.

The lieutenant from earlier steps in and salutes stiffly. He obviously is still shaken by Zenos' sudden dismissal of the previous captain. Does it mean he is the captain now?

"The cabin has been prepared for Lady Light, my prince."

"Lady Light?" She asks the officer sharply, her eyes narrow in suspicion. "That is not my name."

"Pardon me, my lady, but what should we call you then?"

"My name is…"

"Lady Light, huh…" Zenos interrupts, his fingertips tapping the table lightly. Then he smiles. "That would do for them… indeed."

"I'm not a lady."

"But you are now."

She gets out of her chair so quickly it screeches against the metal floor and immediately regrets it. She has given herself away. Zenos' eyes spark in amusement. He knows it bothers her, that he wouldn't use her name. He knows it bothers her no one does.

"You arrogant brute."

"Silly savage…"

Zenos flicks his hand dismissively. She rolls her eyes in response, again.

"Ugh."

"If you would follow me, my lady."

She is already through the door when Zenos' voice catches up with her.

"I shall send for you for the next meal. I rather enjoy having company."

“No, I’d rather not.”

“The servants will fetch you.” The door cuts her off before she can come up with an appropriately acrid response. It isn’t easy, not being so… nice. It takes practice.

**_Enjoy being a pet?_ **

_I'm not a pet._

**_That's what you're telling yourself, darling… you're good at telling lies but only to yourself. Actually, no, forget it. You are an absolutely terrible liar._ **

"Ugh."

"M-my lady?"

She didn't realize she said that last part out loud. Lieutenant is staring at her with wide, scared eyes.

**_Ladies do not groan, I'll have you know._ **

"Never you mind, officer. My cabin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, leave a comment! I'd love to hear what you think so far <3


	4. Chapter 4

The cold air cuts her throat and lungs. It’s so crisp and sharp. It smells of north and snow. Coerthas, the land of endless winter. The frozen mountains and all those memories it brought…

She pushes them away. It still hurts too much. The hollow emptiness in her chest where her heart should have been is throbbing with old grief.

It has been years now. One would think she would have been able to leave those memories behind.

Her hand squeezes tightly around the spear shaft. Bending her knees, she almost touches the ground with spikes protruding from her armor. Her muscles sing with tension, and she reaches within, to the soul stone.

It blazes with heat and the roar of dragon inside makes her smile just slightly.

Unwinding like a tightened spring, she leaps into the air, easily cresting the wall of a castrum good twenty yalms above.

The airship has stopped for refueling before traversing the northern ocean, beyond the mostly unpeopled wilderness of Dravania. The air is swirling with the currents of aether, so dense that it made the chunks of earth and rock float.

She looks over the mountains, sparkling with snow and ice. Sharp, like teeth of a dangerous beast snapping at the sky above. There is beauty in them, however. Not a soft delicate beauty of a silken garment or majestic eminence of stained glass in a cathedral.

It is a beauty of a bared sword, deadly and lethal, yet graceful.

She couldn’t say how long she stayed on the top of the wall, looking at the mountains. Thinking of a time a lifetime ago… or what seems like it.

“My lady?”

She barely turns her head towards the words. She still didn’t want to acknowledge the way the soldiers treated her, but they really didn’t have a choice. Zenos has thrown some poor sod from a catwalk to his death hundreds of yalms below for calling her…

Well, it didn’t matter. What does she care what they think? What they think her relationship is with the crown prince. She doesn’t even know herself. Is she a guest? A confidant? A companion?

A friend.

The only friend he ever had.

“What is it?”

“Prince Zenos is looking for you. You will find him in the training courtyard.”

“I see. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Before he even finished talking, she vaults backward off the wall, diving back down to the ground. The soul of Dragoon burns comfortably within her, lending her dexterity and strength as she lands lightly on her feet, the arm holding her spear outstretched for balance. She feels the terrible inertia wash through her body and down into the ground. A regular person would have broken all the bones in their feet and legs.

She is not a regular person.

Her spear hoisted to her shoulder, she makes her way west, towards the training courtyard. She didn’t ask where it was, but she can hear the swords clashing and men shouting from that direction. The sounds carry far in the still air.

She walks slowly but determinately. She has nowhere to hurry, not anymore. She has no duties or obligations, no mission to complete, no quest to follow.

It is odd but liberating.

_Is this freedom?_

It has been nearly a week since they left Gyr Abania. During that time she had blessed little to do, other than reading books in her sparse cabin, watching the Sea of Clouds pass by or taking meals with Zenos.

That was still an odd affair. They spoke little, but there was something. She still can’t say what exactly. It seems they are such different people that both of them struggle to come up with something to say.

What do you say to your once enemy? The one you tried so hard to kill, the one who grew up on the other side of the world in completely different circumstances?

But it was also oddly familiar. It reminded her of a different man, a different friend.

She didn’t talk much with Estinien either. He wasn’t the type. Nights spent in Dravanian wilderness, watching for threats as Alphinaud and Ysayle slept. To not wake them, they spoke little, or very quietly. They communicated mostly with gestures and looks. Or stares. Or glares. And mostly rolls of their eyes.

They were also different. Yet they were sides of the same coin, invested with the same power.

She sighs, frowning. Thinking of Estinien still makes her bitter. He left, abandoning her and their duty. Slinked away when no one was watching, leaving to do what he wanted.

But then, she’d done the same. Both Azure Dragoons are gone now. The last Azure Dragoons.

And Ishgard doesn’t need them anymore.

 

Training grounds are full of sparring soldiers, some in squads, some in pairs. She easily spots Zenos, looking over them from a raised platform, along with a few other officers. His long blond hair whips in the wind, catching the midday sun, shining like strands of gold.

She marches toward him straight through the ground, and she can hear whispers arising behind her. She feels the soldier’s stares on her: fearful, hateful, curious. She ignores them.

Let them stare. It’s not like she has anything to hide.

Her spear still balanced on her shoulder, swaying slightly with her step as she makes her way to the platform and, without breaking her stride, bends her knees just a bit more than normal to have a stronger push.

Her dragoon jump elicits a few startled gasps from the soldiers below as she lands beside the prince and rests the butt of her spear on the floor, leaning against it somewhat defiantly.

“What is it you want?”

She can see the fearful look an officer behind Zenos gave her. The crown price would not hesitate to behead a person under his command who addressed him like she just did. But she is not under his command.

“A spar, oh mighty warrior, my precious beast.”

A smirk is playing on his lips. It takes some effort of will for her to look away from them. Yes, the man is handsome, and she admits to being a woman. It means nothing.

“Is that why you brought me with you? You just wanted a sparring partner?”

He doesn’t answer. She rolls her eyes.

“Fine. I have nothing better to do.”

She is defiant, as always. But her blood sings at the prospect of a good fight. Finally.

Zenos makes his way down the stairs, his metal boots clinking against metal stairs. So much metal everywhere around her, all the time. Metal airship, metal castrum, metal floor in the courtyard. It’s unnatural and it always felt wrong to her.

She’d better get used to it. She doesn’t know what Garlemald looks like… but she has a suspicion it would be much the same.

She doesn’t follow, instead, vaulting off the platform and landing below. Her muscles are eager. It has been so long since she fought. She bounces on the balls of her feet lightly.

Zenos gestures for the soldiers to clear the courtyard, and they rush for the walls. No one wants to be near the battle when it occurs, but they do not leave. They are morbidly curious to see, not only their prince fight but also her.

The woman they’ve been telling scary stories about to their children.

They stop facing each other in the middle of the courtyard. Zenos is still smirking arrogantly. She flips the spear in her hand, pointing it behind and away, standing straight-backed and tense like a taut string. Waiting for him to make the first move.

He puts on his helmet, his face disappearing behind the demonic mask. She raises her hand and pulls down the visor of her own helmet with two fingers. It secures itself in place with a click.

They pause, studying each other. His hand on the hilt of one of his swords, resting leisurely. Her spear is prepared to parry an incoming attack.

Then, in a split second, his hand clenches around the sword and he slices horizontally at her. She is prepared however and sees the motion just as it starts. She plants the tip of her spear into the ground.

Just in time, as she had no chance of withstanding the raw force of the attack otherwise, despite all her strength. The sword clangs against the shaft of the spear and bounces off from its own momentum. Her hands ring with the pain of a powerful block, but she uses the opening and the leverage of the spear in the ground to kick high, aiming at his head.

He tilts back, surprisingly nimble for a man of his size and swings again. This time she ducks under the swing, feeling the movement of air above her head and performs a powerful thrust forward.

Her spear hits his breastplate and catches in the ornate details of it. She doesn’t break through, despite the maximum effort, only succeeding in pushing him back. He loses his balance momentarily, but recovers quickly, faster than she can close the distance.

She tries anyway, trying to press her advantage. She charges recklessly, trying to reach...

He backhands her, sending her flying. She lands on her back, dazed, then flexes and pushes up with her hands and feet to jump back up.

Her vision doubles for a split second before snapping back to normal. The quick exchange left them in almost the same position as when they started it just a few seconds ago. She adjusts the grip on her spear.

“Let us dance, then.”

 

A moment can last an eternity when battling. She can’t tell how long they’ve been at it. She dodges, he strikes, she thrusts, he blocks. A dance, a fight, a song of steel. There is no world outside this small arena. Her side aches where he hit her a moment ago, her arms tired from swiping and blocking.

Her swing makes him back away, but his back step gives him momentum to charge forward, closing the distance where his sword is more effective than her spear. She jumps back, but not fast enough, and she feels the blade passing inches from her face, feeling the wind on her cheek.

A strand of her hair flies free. He is so close.

But she steps even closer, making him pause for a split second. He expected her to back out further. She closes in even more, where even his sword would not be of use, and twists, bringing her spear around at a terrible speed.

He pulls in his sword in preparation to block, but it is a faint. She sidesteps him, working around his ankle and moves her body at the very last moment to reposition behind his back.

Her legs crash into his in a kick, and he stumbles. He responds with a furious overhead swing, but she leaps good eight yalms into the air, passing over his sword easily.

As she’s falling down she can see that Zenos calculated where she would land and preemptively swings in that direction. She can’t really change her trajectory once in the air.

But she knows a few tricks.

Her spear rams into his shoulder, and she pushes off him with all her weight, twisting in the air and landing away from him. The dragon roars within her, and she rushes again, in an obvious attack.

But in the last moment, she slides down on her knees, letting his counterattack to pass overhead, and swings at his legs again, this time with her spear.

His legs, already weakened by her previous kick, give out. Her attack swipes his feet right out from under him, and he falls, crashing to the floor head first.

Before he can regain control, she leaps into the air again and lands directly on his chest. With the tip of her spear, she slides his helmet off him.

Zenos looks a bit dazed by the impact.

_The bigger they are…_

The tip of her spear quivers ilms away from his third eye. She can hear shouts from the soldiers around her. It would be so easy...

Then, she flips her weapon and taps his chin with the butt of her spear.

“I win.” She says in a sing-song voice and hops off his chest.

Zenos slowly gets off the floor and waves a dismissive hand at his soldiers that are running towards them.

“That you are,” he says quietly, his gaze intense, burning. Both of them are out of breath, both of them hurting from a dozen bruises and cuts. A trickle of sweat tickles her cheek, but after she wipes it away she sees that it’s deep red color. Not sweat then. She doesn’t even remember which of his attacks did that.

“Next time, try harder.”

A smirk returns to his lips, and she can’t help it but smile back.

“Next time.”

And, looking into his eyes, she knows.

There will be a next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think <3


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

"Ouch ouch ouch ouch…"

She makes a face as a chirurgeon carefully peels off her armor. The pieces fall to the floor with loud thunks.

The inside of the breastplate is caked with blood on the right. She grimaces. Too bad she never quite learned the healing arts. Her body restored itself quickly on its own, but other than minor healing skills of a red mage she never was the type.

Alphinaud or Y'Shtola we're always there to help. Perhaps she should have learned… but there never was enough time…

"Hold still, m'lady."

Chirurgeon is carefully cleaning the wound. It looks like the metal held the blow, but some of the plates have split and bent inward, jabbing through the soft leather under armor and pierced the skin. It doesn’t look too bad.

Another one is cleaning the cut on her cheek. She feels a soft caress of a moist cotton ball on her skin, and then pressure. She looks down at the hands of her caretaker. He is stitching her wound, but she feels no pain. In fact, that patch of skin doesn’t feel anything.

She closes her eyes and lets the doctors take care of her. Her blood is still boiling from the fight however, her heart fluttering with exhilaration.

Her is leg is twitching impatiently. She wants to move, wants to do something… work out the pent up energy. She's almost ready to jump up, besides, her wounds don't hurt that bad at all.

"Please hold still, m'lady, I'm trying to make the sides of the gash to align… you might be left with a bad scar otherwise.

She shrugs. Her body bears dozens, one more wouldn't really make a difference. There is a jagged rip going up the ribcage that nearly killed her during the fight with Nidhogg, the dragon's claw shredding her flesh and bone, slicing her lung. Only near-constant stream of healing magics and three weeks confined to bed have stabilized her condition.

If she closes her eyes, she can still hear her own wheezing, rattling breath, bubbling with blood. That wound should have killed her...

There is a bump in her arm where a bone didn't heal properly from a crack, blocking Zephirin’s sword with her wrist was a poor idea. There is a wide slash from a sword on her stomach that nearly gutted her during the Crystal Braves betrayal. Hiding under her hair a row of small pits where her neck connects with the shoulder, from a bite mark left by Griffin.

That fight was vicious. He was fighting dirty, and she had to respond in kind. They ended up struggling in melee, twisting arms, gouging eyes, popping bones out of the sockets. He sank his teeth deep into her neck once he had her in a hold, making her shriek out under the red sky.

If not for the timely arrival of Lyse and Papalymo, he could have done much worse. He would have done much worse.

There are more, so many more. Her body is covered with scars from hundreds of battles, dozens of mortal foes.

It would be fitting if there was one from Zenos too.

She hears the whisper of cloth and screech of metal against metal behind her. Chirurgeons freeze in place, looking up.

She slowly turns her head. Her breath hitches a bit. Zenos is just standing there, a few strips of bandages wrapped around his bare torso. There are quite a few fresh bruises on his body, blood pooling under the skin throwing his muscular form in high relief.

The biggest one is on his shoulder, where she pushed off him with her spear. He is just looking at her, tall and silent.

The pause lasts but a few seconds, and the chirurgeons go back to what they were doing. She sighs and turns back.

She can hear the heavy footsteps behind her, circling her. The chirurgeon stitching her cheek cuts off the thread, gathers his instruments and hurries out of the sick bay.

The one working on the wound in her side is still there, but she can sense the stiffness in his posture.

Steps behind her stop, and she nearly jumps when a finger trails an old scar on her scapula. A shiver runs down her spine, but she stays in place. She can’t really move while the chirurgeon has his needle in her side.

“Would you mind? I’m nearly naked.” She put as much irritation into her tone as she possibly could.

His fingers are still questing over the scars on her back, slowly gliding up, tracing over the raised, bumpy flesh.

“Zenos.”

His hand pushes her hair away from her shoulder and neck and she grabs his wrist before he reaches the bite mark. The chirurgeon freezes again from sudden motion.

“Get. Out.”

“You cannot order me, silly savage.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Ugh, Halone help me…”

She looks down at the wound. It’s all stitched up, and chirurgeon was just putting a bandage around her torso. She swats his hands away and gets up. Letting go of Zenos’ hand she snatches a blanket from the cot she was sitting on. A second later she has wrapped herself in the off-white cloth.

She eyes Zenos defiantly.

“What, like what you see?”

He shrugs, and her rebellious eyes can’t help but watch his muscles roll beneath the skin. Gods, why is his body sculpted so perfectly?

“I never was one for the pleasures of the flesh.”

Her eyes narrow. The statement reeks of insult. So he doesn’t even think she is attractive… why does this sting so very much?

“What was that about then?”

“Your scars are… quite peculiar. I’ve never seen anyone like that.”

“That’s it? Do you even have a concept of personal space?”

He gives her a flat, unreadable look. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, keep it together...

**_Why? You don’t have anyone to be accountable to… you are not the hero… not anymore. Let go..._ **

_I’m not a rabid beast you think I am. He thinks I am_.

She flares the power of Dragoon soul stone within her, chasing Fray away. But too late, her irritation boils over anyway.

“You are insufferable.”  
  
He gives her a small, mocking bow.

“I strive for consistency.”

“And that is why you do not have any friends.” She turns on her heel and marches out of the med bay, trailing the improvised wrap behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

“Well tell him I’m not coming. I’m not hungry.”

“B-but my lady…”

“I’m not going.”

She turns around and continues her stitching. She is lounging on the narrow bed with her legs tucked under her bottom and is working on a particularly tricky part of the design. During her time fulfilling commissions on behalf of the Tailors Guild she rarely had time to do something for herself. She loves her craft and liked most of her customers, but sometimes she wished she had more time for something that would challenge her skill to the limit.

Well, now she has plenty of time. She doesn’t really have anything but time now.

The servant is still standing in the doorway, trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind.

“I cannot say that to the prince! I beg of you, m’lady, please…”

She sighs heavily.

“Yes, you can. It’s just that simple: tell him I’m not coming, I’m not in the mood. He can dine by himself. He did it before I came along just fine.”

She waves the man away and returned to her embroidery. An elaborate phoenix on the sleeve of the gown is coming along quite nicely, she can see each feather glittering in the light with every move.

Her fingers move carefully, but surely, down, up, down, up. Time melts away, minutes melding together as she works. She can’t say how long it’s been, but one of the wings is finished and she pauses, admiring her handiwork.

The door slides wide open, and she jumps from surprise and hisses in pain. A bright scarlet drop of blood quivers on the tip of one of her fingers. She is wearing a thimble on her index finger, but she managed to jab her needle into the middle one which is not covered. She quickly licks off the drop, before it can roll off her finger and ruin the cloth.

Zenos’ massive form is blocking the doorway. She eyes him apprehensively.

“I told you I’m not coming.”

He steps into her cabin and sits down on the chair, crossing his arms and legs.

“Why are you here?”

He is looking down. Following his gaze, she realizes that he fixated on the new drop of blood that has gathered on the tip of her finger again.

“You know, it’s considered polite to respond when someone is talking to you.” She is still irritated with him after the stunt in the med bay. As if no one had ever taught him that you don’t just touch someone’s body…

“You aren’t afraid of me.”

She cocks her head to the side, surprised. He gestures to the door.

“Look at all of them. They are terrified of me. Servants, soldiers, courtiers. Even my own father.”

“You do have a habit of killing people who displease you even in the slightest.”

His shoulders barely move in a shrug of acknowledgment.

“Everyone is afraid of me… No one ever speaks frankly to me, no one ever refuses anything. No one… except you. Why?”

She eyes him defiantly.

“You can’t kill me, even if you tried. And you did.”

He slowly shakes his head.

“I could have killed you when we first met. You know that.”

She thinks about that encounter often. That bleeding, scorching, howling night, when the fires consumed Rhalgr’s Reach and nearly all of its inhabitants were slaughtered. They fought… and for the first time in her life, she couldn’t overcome her enemy.

Not even close.

She was in his power. She was all but defeated.

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks her straight in the eye. He has amazing blue eyes…

“Because when you looked at me, on your knees in the dirt, covered in blood and soot… you weren’t afraid of me. You wanted me dead, you wanted to fight. You were a brutal savage who defied the Empire and conspired against us, but you were not afraid, not broken…”

She bears the usual insult without any protest. It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t use her name. It doesn’t…

“I was intrigued. So I let you live, hoping that you will provide a challenge later… and I was right.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in front of him and steeples his fingers.

“But I could never figure out why…Why aren’t you afraid? Everyone I’ve questioned about you… every one of them has said that you aren’t afraid of anything they can think of. Eikons, wild tribes, Empire’s might, Allagan ruins or rampaging dragons. You are charging ahead without fear. Why?..”

She closes her eyes. She knows exactly why and when that happened. She can still see it in her mind’s eye, can still feel it…

“Why? Tell me…”

“Why would I? Do you want to figure it out so you can put the fear into me?” She snaps her eyes open and glares at him.

“No.” His answer is so quiet she has trouble hearing him over the noise of airship engines.

She is looking into his eyes. Bright blue, like midday sky. But she is seeing different eyes, darker, stormier, deeper…

“I don’t know.” She says firmly. “Now if you would just…”

And suddenly, her knees are feeling the icy stone, her wet cheeks are stinging from the wind. The blood is splattered on the marble, bright red. His lifeblood. It’s flooding the stone, covering it, spilling out from a giant hole in his side…

One look at it and she knows: there is no magic in the world that can fix that. Almost an entire lower left side of his torso is ripped out.

There is so much blood… her britches are soaking it in, and she feels the sting of the wind through the cloth.

She cradles his head on her knees. A trickle of blood is spurting from between his lips. But he is smiling anyway. He knows he is dying. She knows he is dying.

“Smile for me…”

Her tears stream down onto his face, which is quickly losing its color, becoming more like the marble he is lying on rather than flesh.

“A smile better suits a hero…”

And she smiles for him, forcing her muscles to obey. She suspects it’s more of a grimace of pain rather than smile… but he is content with that.

She watches the blood rush. Draining away his life, draining away the color of the world with it. Everything becomes dark. Flat. One dimensional.

She feels it when he is gone, knows it in her body, in her soul, in her heart.

Throwing her head back, she cries out to the heavens, to Hydaelyn, to Twelve, to Fury. Please, I gave you everything, her voice echoes over the silent city. I gave you every onze of my strength. If you are here, if you can hear me… I gave you everything, she screams, why do you take away the only one I had for myself…

The gray heavens are silent, indifferent to her anguish. No answer comes to her desperate plea, and tears continue to roll down her cheeks.

She is startled back to reality, to the present. Her cheeks are wet... she hurriedly wipes them away with her sleeve.

What… was that? Is that an…  _ Echo _ ? It felt so real…

She could feel his weight on her knees again. Feel the softness of his hair. The warmth of his blood.

“Who was that?”

She looks into his eyes. It can’t be.

“You… saw that?”

He nods. Her entire body is trembling with pain and fury.

“You… you are?...

It can’t be. He can’t be a Warrior of Light. Hydaelyn would never… would she?

“No.”

“But... how?”

“Who was that?” He repeats forcefully, his piercing eyes fixed on hers. She understands. He will not answer until she does. She clenches her fists to stop them from shaking, nails biting deeply into her palm.

“The man I loved. The man who was everything to me. Once he died, I had nothing left to fear, for the only thing I was afraid of has come to pass.”

“Love…” He seems to consider it and nods. “It made you weak.”

She is on her feet before she even realizes it, her sewing tumbling to the floor. A painful cramp in her side tells her she probably busted some stitches in her wound from the sudden movement, but she doesn’t care. It’s remote and unimportant.

“How. Dare. You.” She jabs her finger into his chest with every word, leaving bloody fingerprints on his uniform.

Zenos is nonplussed.

“So that is your secret. You have nothing more left to fear. I see…”

She grabs him by the collar and drags him closer. Or she tries to, he probably weighs at least thrice as much as her, so she only succeeds in pulling herself closer to him.

“How did you do that, how did you see it? Answer me!”

Zenos’ eyes change, becoming stark red. She gasps, letting go and backing off.

“Resonance. My scientists have been researching this “Echo” of yours to try and transfer or replicate its power.”

“Krile…” She grinds her teeth. “You did that to her. It was done on your orders.”

“Of course. I had to be stronger. I had to match whatever it was that you had.”

She looms over the table, looking straight into his unnatural eyes.

“You are playing with powers you do not understand.”

He is holding her gaze, even as his eye color shifts back to the normal hue. He is one of the few people who doesn’t look away from her. Of those who are still alive, anyway. He is not afraid, not in awe. He knows they are roughly equal in power. That was why she left with him.

“And do you?”

“I…”

What does she understand? It was a gift from Hydaelyn, but she can’t say why or for what purpose. It makes her immune to the influence of Primals and shows her visions of people’s past traumatic events.

But why… why her? What is this power she is wielding?

“You can’t control it. It comes and goes as it pleases. The Resonance obeys my will.”

“It is a force, like the wind or the sea. You can’t really control that.”

“But why not?”

“What?..”

He takes her hand. There is still minor bleeding, she must have hit right through a small vessel. He sucks on her finger, licking off the blood. Her eyes widen in surprise.

He lets go and smirks, watching her shock in satisfaction.

“When I hear things are the way they are I think of how to change that. When I hear it can’t be done I ask why not.”

She snorts, very unladylike but when was she a lady?

“Is everything simply a challenge for you?”

His long, aristocratic fingers grab her chin and bring her even closer to him.

“Defiant as ever, and yet... you know you are the same.”

_ Even a prince must bow to the gravity… for now. _

_ Pathetic. I’m sure I could find a way if I needed it badly enough. _

“When I saw you, fought you, I knew I would have to know why you aren’t afraid of me. I knew…”

His fingers drop and still smirking to himself Zenos turns away and heads for the door.

“I knew that I will have to try and tame you… my dear, precious beast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you like it <3 I'm dying to hear your thoughts!


	7. Chapter 7

"How much longer now?"

Zenos raises his eyebrow. She has joined him at the dinner this time around, and while she was still seething deep inside, her anger has, oddly, abated.

"In such a rush to see the Empire? I can’t blame you for that. I sorely miss the comforts of civilization."

She rolls her eyes.

"Just want to get out of this flying tin can. It's getting rather cramped."

"I see."

He meticulously dissects a piece of meat before looking her straight in the eye.

"We will head for the capital. I need to report to my lord father. No doubt he knows what happened in Ala Mhigo, but he will want to hear it from me."

He puts down his knife and fork and steeples his fingers in front of his chest.

"And there is another matter as well. It concerns you."

"Oh?"

She puts down her utensils as well, straightening up. Why is he looking at her like that? Almost like he is… worried?

"Guest of honor or no, you are a criminal by Garlean law."

She nearly chokes.

"I… what? It was war, Zenos! I… I only killed people in battle! People who were trying their damnedest to kill me!"

He tilts his head to the side slightly, his golden hair sliding past his ear and catching light is just the most perfect way.

_Ugh, focus._

"And did you not conspire in rebellion against the Empire?"

"Um…"

"That is treason."

She gives him a glare.

"I'm not your subject to commit treason."

"All the people of the world are our subjects. They are merely resisting the inevitable."

Her hand tightens around her knife. Zenos watches her action with mild amusement. A corner of his mouth turns up as if asking "and what are you going to do with that, silly beast?".

"I understand you see the facts differently, but on Garlean soil that wouldn't matter. Therefore, we must seek an audience with my father immediately. Only he can grant you the amnesty that will allow you to remain within the Empire… free and unmolested."

The implication hangs in the air. She suddenly is not hungry anymore.

“And what happens if he doesn’t?”

Zenos is looking at her from behind his long eyelashes. The silence stretches, growing uneasy.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He finally says.

“That is not an answer.”

“No, it is not.”

As if a shutter has come down between them, she feels a sharp pang of loneliness. Helplessness. Sorrow. In just over a week, she has nearly forgotten what it felt like, to be so alone. She put it out of her mind, gotten so comfortable to have someone beside her.

Her hand lay limply on the table, and his palm covers hers lightly, startling her briefly, yet the heat of his skin soothing her.

He doesn’t say anything more, not promising anything, not claiming platitudes to put her mind at ease. And she appreciates his honesty.

It really is not up to either of them.

“You knew that’s going to happen.” It’s not a question but a statement.

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have preferred to spend the past week constantly wondering what kind of fate awaits you once we arrive?”

She looks down at their joined hands.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Indeed.”

She slowly slides her hand off the table and gets up. Zenos doesn’t stop her.

“Thank you for dinner. I think I shall retire for the night.”

“Very well. We will arrive at the capital tomorrow afternoon. Sleep well… or try to.”

She stops in the doorway, with her back turned to him, looking out into the low lit corridor which stretches into the darkness for what seems like forever.

“I won’t give in without a fight should things not go my way.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

 

As she is looking at the approaching ground she wonders: why isn’t she running? Why isn’t she leaping off this metal contraption to the land below and escaping far, far away? She can even still make it to an Aetheryte in Dravania, it’s very far yet she can still reach it with her mind, feel the attunement with her aether.

Get there, and run… somewhere. Anywhere.

But… that means leaving behind the only person who understands. The only equal she has ever had.

No. That is not an option.

The airship lands in the imperial gardens, and she is surprised by the beauty of it. Creeping vines and flowers, lush grasses and fruiting trees.

A squadron of the praetorian guard is waiting for them below. Zenos starts heading down the ramp, but stops in just a few steps, realizing that she is not following.

She is looking at the palace, looming over them. She is looking over the praetorian guard, with their gunblades bare and ready. The hesitation is plainly written on her face and she is not bothering to hide it.

Zenos reaches out with his hand to her, waiting.

"You trusted me enough to leave Eorzea behind."

She finally makes a step toward him and slowly puts her hand in his. She decided to trust him back then. She decides to trust him now, too.

Her mind is screaming that she is a fool. Yet in her heart, she knows that she would rather trust and be hurt than spend her life doubting and suspecting.

They make their way down the ramp, Zenos leading her past the guards without paying them or their pointed weapons any attention. Despite this, her other hand tightens around the handle of her rapier.

She has chosen to wear her most flamboyant and flagrant outfit. If she is going to die today, she might as well do it in style. Her velvet doublet catches the light of the sun and shimmers, her cravat stark white and impeccable, tightly tied around her neck. A gentle breeze makes the white feather in her raucously tilted hat tickle the back of her head.

She hears the sound of metal boots hitting the stone behind them and knows that the guards are following them a few steps behind.

The massive doors open silently in front of them, a pair of footmen bowing at the waist as they pass.

He leads her through a maze of hallways and elegantly decorated rooms. She expected opulence and grandeur, yes, but there is also a haunting sort of emptiness in them. As if no one has been there in years.

Finally, they cross the main hall, which looks like a state ballroom, and stop before richly decorated double doors. Two more praetorian guards wait on either side. They push the doors open.

The throne room is a massive, echoing chamber. Open space is making the throne on the opposite side of the room the only focal point. A figure shifts on the throne, rising up.

Zenos let's go of her hand and walks towards his father, leaving her to scamper along, trying to keep up with his wide stride.

They meet the emperor halfway through the chamber, and she can't help it but count the guards as they pass. One between each column on each side. Six, and probably two sets of two more ahead, if the same order repeats, and two more at either side of the throne.

Zenos flings sash out of the way in a smooth motion as he kneels before the emperor. For a second she hesitates. Should she at least bow?

"Father."

And yet, the emperor is not looking at him. He is looking at her. He passes his kneeling son and stops right before her, smiling slightly.

"And so we meet again."

Zenos' head snaps up, and he is looking at her in surprise. Oh. So he didn't know.

"Emperor Varis."

The monarch raises his eyebrow.

"It is customary for a lady to curtsy… but I suspect you are not the type to do that. Indeed, I noticed you've always favored rather mannish clothing.”

She bristles at the comment. _Now I know where Zenos gets his manners from_.

“But I would hope that at least a bow would be in order, just for politeness' sake."

Her back stays straight, and she looks directly into his eyes, daring him. Perhaps not the wisest course of action on her part…

"Leave us."

To her surprise, he is not addressing her, but Zenos. The prince's eyes narrow, and for a moment it looks like he will defy his father's order.

But he gets up and, throwing his father a murderous glare, turns on his heel and marches out of the throne room.

The sound of his steps is cut off by the closing of the doors. She watches him leave, with a sudden sense of foreboding.

What is going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. Let me know what you think :D


	8. Chapter 8

The emperor slowly circles her, his steps loud and clear in the cavernous chamber.

“So, my son has finally fallen to the charms of a woman. Amazing. And quite impressive, I must say. I didn’t dare to hope that I would see the day.”

Her back is ramrod stiff, and she clasps her gloved hands behind her back.

“I don’t know what kind of rumors you’ve heard, Your Radiance, but I can assure you: they are unfounded.”

“Oh?”

He stops behind her, and her entire being itches to turn around and face him. She hates it when someone is standing behind her. But she restrains herself. She is not going to play this game.

“You are saying that you are not his mistress?”

“I'm not.” Her cheeks and ears prickle with the beginning of a flush.

**_Not for the lack of wanting._ **

_Oh gods, not now..._

“I see.”

The steps continue.

“You have a reputation as an honest woman. I have to believe that what you say is true. Which then begs a question…”

Varis stops in front of her again, and she has to crane her head to look him in the eye.

“Why are you here, Warrior of Light? I do not believe my son possesses any sort of personal charm, nor wit, to be frank. All he wants, all he ever wanted was to kill his enemies. Like yourself.”

He doesn’t seem to have any love for Zenos. Judging by the glare the latter gave him before departing, the feeling is mutual. She should probably stop assuming that normal family dynamics apply to the Galvuses, though she could have guessed that much.

“What could compel someone like you to follow someone like him?”

Her mind is racing. Varis must think his son must some sort of leverage over her?

“I have my reasons.”

“And what is most amazing to me is that you are still alive.”

“He cannot kill me. He tried.”

“Ah… So he finally met his match?” Varis looks her over appraisingly. She narrows her eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She says calmly. “This little thing? This wisp of a girl? This is the opponent your monstrous son couldn’t defeat? No, there must be another reason she is here.”

There is a flash of something in the emperor’s eyes. Respect?

“You know I am an honest person, you said it yourself. So here is the truth: I am what I am by the grace of the gods. My strength is legendary across the world. Your son couldn’t help himself but be drawn to me. I was the one worthy challenger he had left.”

She pauses, watching him. Still not convinced...

“And he is the only one who could challenge me. Yet… if one of us kills the other, what would be left to the victor? We are the only ones who can understand one another. That is why we didn’t kill each other. That is why I left with him.”

“And that is it?”

“That’s it.”

Varis continues to walk, a thoughtful expression on his face. Mulling over her words, he stops with his back turned to her. Such an easy target. Too trusting? So vulnerable.

As if trying to...

“Ah... I see.” She finally bows her head in respect. The emperor throws a curious glance at her over the shoulder.

“You’re trying to figure out if I’m an assassin. Draw out any hidden traps I might have had prepared in a controlled situation. Not that you are in any danger, your praetorians would overwhelm me before I can pierce that impressive armor of yours.”

She throws a side-eye glance at his guards, standing still like statues.

“I could take one or two. Perhaps even three. Twelve? Plus the two on the other side of those doors? Doubtful.”

Varis turns back towards her, smiling.

“You _are_ clever. No wonder you managed to survive this long.”

“The real question I have is who did you suspect in sending me, the Eorzean Alliance… or your son?”

He laughs openly, surprising warmth in his voice.

“It doesn't matter. So you are not an assassin.”  
  
“I didn’t say that.” She grins in response.

“I don’t believe you are. So, perhaps that is indeed all you came here to do: keep my son _friendly_ company… even if I cannot fathom why.”

Her cheeks and ears prickle traitorously once again.

His hand comes up under her chin, gently tilting her head up.

“Though I can see why he would want to keep you close.”

 **_Oh_ ** **my** **_._ **

“It has been a long time since I have enjoyed anyone’s company quite like this. You are whip-smart, and you are beautiful. A rare combination, even at the imperial court. To see one such as you in the wild lands beyond… you are a rare gem indeed.”

His thumb slowly caresses her cheek. Her eyebrow quirks up. He can’t be serious.

“I would very much like to dine with you, my lady. Tonight.”

He drags his finger over her lower lip. The drop in his tone and deep, almost velvety quality of his voice leaves little doubt as to what kind of “dining” he is proposing.

**_I can’t imagine what he sees in you._ **

_For once you might just be right._

**_Huh?_ **

A smile slowly spreads through her face.

“This is just another test, isn’t it. To see if my real goal is to live the life of luxury and leisure by being a royal concubine. To see if I would bite on a greater prize than a mere prince, and far more personable, too.”

Varis bursts into laughter once again, dropping his hand from her face.

“You can’t blame me for trying, my dear. I meant every word of my compliments.”

She shrugs, still smiling.

“You aren’t bad for a man of your age, Your Radiance. I’m sure the court ladies are lining up to try and get your attention.”

The emperor gives her a graceful half-bow. She responds in kind, giving him her best Crimson Duelist impression: taking a half step back, she slips off her hat and gestures with a flair while bending forward, the other hand tucked behind her back.

“You are free to stay within the Empire, and you are welcome at the palace and the court. I decree your previous crimes forfeit. Enjoy your day, my lady.”

“Thank you, Your Radiance.”

She puts her hat back on, turns away and walks out of the throne room, smiling.

  


The door barely finished closing behind her. She briefly wonders about the absence of the guards outside of the chamber.

Next moment she is rammed into the marble wall, and gasps from a sudden sharp hit of the back of her head against the stone. Her hat is knocked off her head, and her vision is swimming, darkening.

No... it’s not darkening. Zenos looms over her, blocking the light. He is pressing her against the wall with his body, making it impossible to escape. His gloved hand closes over her neck.

“What did he want?” His voice is a low hiss.

His eyes are blazing with barely held fury. She swallows, feeling the pressure on her windpipe.

“He just wanted to test me. First, if I’m an assassin, then…”

“Then?”

She looks him in the eyes. He looks like he is ready to explode. The depth of his rage is impressive. He would make Fray proud.

“If I’m only here to worm my way into the royal bedchamber.”

He looks stunned as if she just slapped him across the face.

“He… what? How?”

She shrugs, trying to be nonchalant while bracing herself for his anger. Maybe it’s a bad idea to tell him the truth, but she is dying to see what his reaction would be. His carefully constructed mask of indifference is slipping, cracking. She can’t help it… she wants to know what is hiding underneath.

“He propositioned me.”

The pressure on her body and crucially, her neck, increases tenfold as Zenos leans into her and lifts her off the floor. She can feel his breath on her lips, their faces level. The corners of her vision begin to darken as her lungs unsuccessfully try to draw in air through the blocked windpipe. Not that it would help, with him pressing her against the wall she wouldn’t be able to lift her chest to let the air in. She has to strain all the muscles in her body to prevent him from completely crushing her.

“He. Can’t. Have you.”

White noise is rising in her ears and her eyes begin to water.

“You’re _mine_.”

She tries to pry his fingers off her throat, but it is as pointless as trying to stop a dragon by pulling on its tail. Colorful circles bloom across her field of view as she chokes.

She can beat him when she has the room to maneuver. When she can dodge and duck and parry. But when she is pinned down, unable to move, raw strength and weight come into play, and she is at a clear disadvantage.

A vision of red sky flashes in her muddled mind. A scar on her shoulder twinges with old pain.

A tear slowly slides down her cheek and through half closed eyes she sees Zenos leaning even closer, so close she can feel the heat emanating from his skin. He licks the tear off her face. It is so strange and yet incredibly sensual.

And suddenly, the pressure on her is gone and she desperately gasps in lungfuls of air. Beginnings of a headache thunder in her temples. If Zenos wasn’t still holding her up against the wall, she would have slid down to the floor.

His hand caresses her cheek, shockingly gentle after the brutal pressure he just inflicted on her. He cups her face as she is coming back to her senses.

“Mine…” His voice is hoarse as he repeats that one word over and over and over again.

So close… he is so close. His eyes are dark and deep, and as she watches his pupils dilate even further, nearly swallowing the blue iris. Her shaking hand reaches up to tangle itself in his luscious hair. She feels the hot flush in her cheeks, and heat pools in her lower belly.

“Prince Zenos!”

The spell breaks and he spins around, letting her go. Her knees buckle and she slides down the wall to the floor, boneless and weak as a kitten.

“What is it, man?” His voice is an enraged growl and she can’t blame the guard for taking a step back.

“Your father requires your presence in the throne room.”

She can’t see his face, she can barely lift her head, but she can see him storming into the chamber. She closes her eyes and leans back, breathing deeply, trying to compose herself.

“My lady?”

She cracks one eye open. The guard is looking down at her, concern is written plainly on his face.

“The Emperor wishes me to escort you to your chambers.”

She sighs. Her head is still swimming and she dreads the thought of getting back on her feet.

“Very well. Just… help me up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous Zenos is jealous >:D thank you everyone who is following this story, your comments and kudos really keep me going! I really hope to get this thing out of my head before Shadowbringers or soon after.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sin sin sin. Rating updated to E.

Shadows lengthen outside the windows.

Zenos did not arrive.

She picked over the fruits and cheeses on a platter the servants brought in.

Zenos did not arrive.

She took a nap, curling up on an overstuffed sofa, hoping it will chase away the headache thudding in her head with every heartbeat.

Zenos did not arrive.

She can’t help but be disappointed. That moment outside the throne room… She thought he’d come to see her as soon as the business with his father was over. Her insides quivered when she thought about it.

He was _jealous_. The carefully constructed mask of indifference that always made her livid had slipped, and what she saw underneath was a man bottling up all of his desires because they made him weak. All of them but one: to kill.

That was the only thing he considered to be worthy of projecting outward, but there was a dark sea of other desires underneath. Kept hidden, protected, squashed and suffocated. Until now.

_Mine…_

A shiver runs down her spine at but just a thought of that voice, so possessive, so passionate. Unlike anything she had heard from him before.

She has changed into the gown she has been working on up until now. The embroidery is not yet finished all the way, but the dress itself is done. The cool silk slides along her skin as she walks up and down the room, her curious fingers mapping out her surroundings.

Night falls quietly and quickly. This far north even during the summer the day feels short.

She feels the chill coming from the glass window. Soon that beautiful garden below will be frozen and the plants will turn into lifeless husks.

Darkness claims the room as she stands by the window, looking out. Feeling the skin rising in goosebumps from the cold, but refusing to move.

The door slides open, and she turns to see a broad figure outlined in the harsh artificial light. He stops abruptly, looking at her, as far as she can tell. All she can see is his dark silhouette carved out in the beam of cold white light.

_I suppose he never saw me in a proper women's clothing before._

He steps inside and closes the door. She blinks a few times, chasing away the afterimage burned into her retina.

“Zenos?”

He stalks toward her, purposeful and predatory, and pins her to the wall again. She braces herself for another round of abuse, but it doesn’t come. His large hands cradle her face, his thumbs caress her cheeks, and his lips, his full, luscious lips capture hers at last.

She may have forgotten how to breathe. Her heart is pounding high in her throat, and her entire body flushes with heat.

She tried to deny it to herself. His is the enemy, her mind said. But her body yearned for him from the very first moment their paths crossed on the battlefield.

A part of her still feels sickened by his touch. Yet she leans into him anyway, for she wants to feel him more, much more.

Their kiss is hungry, passionate and rough. He sucks in her lower lip and bites down hard enough to make her whimper. His tongue fights with hers for dominance and there is no gentleness to it, and from time to time their teeth collide with muffled clicks that resonate through the skull.

She breaks away, gasping for air. Much more pleasant reason to be hyperventilating then earlier this day… She licks her lips, feeling how tender and swollen they are already.

His fingers slide down along her neck and shoulders into the opening of the gown. It’s a relaxed garment, simple crossover wrapping front held closed by a sash. He slides the fabric down her shoulders and she rolls them to let her arms out of the sleeves.

She pulls the sash free herself, letting the gown slip down her body. There is nothing underneath. The mischievous glint in Zenos’ eyes tells her that he knows that she knew that he would come to her rooms to bed her tonight.

At least, she hoped he would.

He is still fully dressed, but when she tries to pry open the front of his uniform he captures her wrists and holds them in one hand. His mouth is exploring her neck, making her gasp as he sucks and nibbles along the bruise he left her with earlier.

He pulls her close against him, the fabric of his uniform rubbing against her sensitive nipples, and she arches back with another gasp, trying to break the contact. But his other arm hooks around her bottom and he lifts her up as if she is as light as a feather. The motion makes her breasts to rub against the rough fabric of his clothed chest and she squirms in his grip. It’s almost too much, and the skin already feels raw.

“So sensitive… I wish I knew you could get distracted so easily... “ he purrs in her ear, his voice reverberating through their tightly pressed bodies. She smacks his shoulder in indignation. She might as well have tried to punch a rock, her fingers sting from the impact.

“That would hardly be useful in a battle.”

“We’ll see, wouldn’t we…”

He carries her over to the bed and dumps her unceremoniously on the silk sheets. She tries to flip over to face him, but his hand is already on her back, pressing her down.

The mattress bows down under the weight as he leans over her, and his lips glide over her neck, leaving a trail of kisses. He moves down her back, his nails scratching the skin as he goes along, making her gasp and arch into his touch. He chuckles.

“So eager. Good… I have been waiting so long for this.”

“Have you now…” she turns her head, looking at him over the shoulder. “What happened to the “I never was one for the pleasures of the flesh”?”

“I’m still not… not unless it’s you.” His fingers trail along the scars on her back down, down, down. She grins.

“Why Zenos, that is almost romantic. I would have never… ah!”

His hand runs over the apex of her legs, already slick with anticipation, a nail catching a sensitive bud of flesh, eliciting a loud hiss from her. It hurts, but it hurts so good. His teeth sink into the soft flesh of her buttocks, and she bucks under him, her cry is muffled by the mattress.

His fingers experimentally rub and roll the bundle of nerves, sending waves of heat through her body. Her litany of “yes, yes, right there” and “oh gods” getting louder and more insistent as he figures out what makes her tick. His long digits slide inside her with minimum resistance and flex, exploring her, testing her. He listens to her and changes direction and pressure as her cries wax and wane in response to his ministrations.

He stops after a while, leaving her thoroughly wet, gasping for air and thirsty for more. She hears the whisper of cloth behind her and rolls over to watch him undress.

By all that is holy, his body is a work of art. As he drops his clothing to the floor, she bites her lip at the sight of him. He must have seen the hunger in her face because a smug smirk appears on his lips.

“Like what you see, savage?”

She licks her dry lips as he unbuckles his belt, a sizable bulge visible beneath it.

“I could ask you the same, brute.”

Smirking in response, she spreads her thighs for him to see, her fingers caressing the slick mound that he had played with just a few moments before. She is so wet for him that even her inner thighs are covered with her juices. As he watches, she rubs herself with one hand and slides two fingers of the other inside.

The heat and pressure are building, especially now that he had stepped out of the last of his clothing and is watching her pleasure herself with an unbelievable intensity. His fingers are teasing the head of his erection as he is looking down at her through lidded eyes.

Her back arches, eyes roll back and her body begins to tremor with tension. At that moment, his hand seizes her wrists once again and pulls them away. Her disappointed groan is mixing with his quiet laughter.

“You will release when I allow it.”

She tries to kick him blindly, but he catches her ankle with the other hand. Effortlessly, he pulls her closer to the edge, lifts her captured leg up, hooking it over his shoulder, and sheathes himself inside of her.

Her hoarse cry must have been heard throughout the entire palace wing. He is so long and thick, filling her to the brim, stretching her past her limits. She guessed that he must be well endowed, just based on his stature. But gods… she is being impaled. The size difference between them...

He leans over her, cradling her against him, giving her time to adjust to him. Her whimpers subside as he sucks at her breast, nibbling at her nipple. His fingers rub soothing circles on her thigh.

When she is no longer cringing in discomfort, he begins to move. Slowly and deliberately, he slides out and back in, and with every pass her body relaxes more and gives into him, accommodating his length and girth. Even still, sharp moans escape her lips with every move he makes, she can’t help it.

“You’re quite a screamer... “ muses Zenos, his hand caressing her cheek in what might just have been affection before he muffles her cries with a deep kiss.

She bites his lower lip hard enough to taste metal on her tongue. He hisses in response and drives his hips forward more forcefully, making her yelp once again as he grinds against the entrance to her womb.

Taking a deep breath, she gathers her strength. It’s hard, with her body weakened and trembling with pleasure, but twinges of pain give her will a boost. With an explosion of power and speed, she rams shoulder first into him, pushing hard. It took him by surprise long enough to let her roll them both over, ending up with her straddling his hips. She looms over him, smiling.

“Easy there. If you keep doing that I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

His eyes are dark with lust and he licks his lips. Slowly, teasingly, she lowers herself top of him, and his manhood twitches inside of her.

“If you can still walk tomorrow, I haven’t done a thorough enough job with you.”

His fingers dig into her hips as she begins to move, sliding forward and back along his length. She doesn’t go quite as deep, but she can move much quicker and to the point that is not too painful. His strong arms give her movements a boost as she rides him hard and fast. Soon enough, both of them are slick with sweat, their breathing labored.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and into the seating position, changing the way she moves. The new angle makes him hit just the perfect spot deep inside of her. His arm wraps around her as she gasps into his shoulder, her nails leaving scratches on his muscular back. He tilts her head up to kiss her, and she can feel his need. And he absolutely can feel her twitching around him erratically, quickly approaching her release.

“Let go… I want to feel you reach the peak around me…” His voice is hoarse and strained, his arms pulling her down to impale her fully onto him.

He barely had to ask. A few more desperate thrusts and her eyes roll back and close, her legs squeeze around his waist and her body releases the built up tension with waves of heat and pleasure that make her toes curl. Her strangled cry is resonated by his groan as her insides grip him like a vice, milking him out of his essence.

They fall onto the sheets in a heap, holding each other through the aftershocks. After she stops feeling like she is melting out of her skin, she carefully rests her head on his shoulder.

It feels so strange to show affection for a man she knows to be a ruthless monster. But there is another side to him, kept hidden and repressed. The side that she has come to know. The side she came to love.

 _Love_ ? But.. it can’t… she can’t…  
  


 

As he nuzzles the top of her head, she is pretending to doze off.

As his breathing evens out and becomes calm and deep, she lays still and quiet.

As the moonlight peeks into the window, she carefully slides out of his embrace and crosses the room on silent feet, picking up her gown and throwing it over her shoulders.

She prays the gust of chilly air won’t wake him from his slumber. Her bare feet are standing on the icy stone of a balcony. Her traveling pack in one hand, an azure soulstone in another, she looks at the sleeping form on the tousled bed as she closes the door as quietly as possible.

He doesn’t wake.

Unsure if she is relieved or disappointed, she turns away.

Aurora blossoms in the sky above, and she can feel the starlight on her skin. The place where her heart should have been pulses with pain like an open wound.

Before she can change her mind, she leaps heavenward and lets the rushing air blow away her tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've written any sort of smut :3 how do you like it? :D leave me a comment.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Where do you think you're going?_ **

"It's none of your concern."

**_It's not a rhetorical question. Do you have any idea where we are? I've never been to Garlemald before._ **

"Neither have I."

**_Have you thought about stealing a map before running away at the very least?_ **

"I was kind of busy."

**_So I've noticed._ **

She glares at her companion. He leaves no footprints in the dusty road.

**_You could have at least thanked me for keeping quiet while you were, ahem, "busy"._ **

"You sick bastard. You were watching."

**_Of course, I was watching. Not like I have got any choice, mind you._ **

His weightless arm wraps around her shoulders with brazen familiarity.

 **_I_ ** **am** **_you after all._ **

"Voyeur."

**_I tried to tune it out. I really did. He's much too blond for my taste._ **

"Ahem. Sid?"

**_That's not blond, my dear. That's silver._ **

 

 

This is why she hates being alone. When left alone with her thoughts and inner torments, they spill out into the world crystallizing in the form of a black-clad armored figure.

**_You are never truly alone. You'd think that would give you a measure of comfort…_ **

"Nope."

The evening chill has caught up with her under the low hanging branches of a pine tree. She is tending to a small fire she built to ward off the cold. What a sharp contrast to but a day earlier, when she was surrounded by luxurious finery of imperial palace.

**_How long before he finds us, do you think?_ **

"A day. A month. A year? Perhaps a decade. It doesn't matter, really… he will not stop. It's not his way. The way he sees it, I am his now. And he does not give up what is his…"

**_What do you know about him, really? You've only known the man for what, ten days? Plus those three times he nearly killed us._ **

"I know enough."

She unwraps her bedroll and stretches out on the blanket without taking off her armor. Her body is still sore and aching in certain places. Her mouth tightens into a line.

She feels… _tainted_. Defiled. Once, she has held Haurchefant against her skin, kissed him, embraced him and made love to him. How gentle and tender he was. How caring and sweet.

What she did with Zenos…

She can't even find a word. Now that her carnal lust has been sated, she is horrified at herself. Was that really the reason she broke away from all she knew and held dear, all she fought for and bled for?

And most of all, she feels immense guilt. It still eats away at her soul, crumbling her to dust.

"I betrayed him."

Fray looks at her with those dark, knowing eyes. He understands that she is not talking about the crown prince.

**_He's dead, you know that. He can't begrudge._ **

"It doesn’t matter. I can’t stop it. I know it in my mind but in my heart… I feel like… like an _adulteress_."

**_Ah… I see. So that is why you are running? You can’t hide from yourself, silly. And here I thought you were starting to get over it. I mean, didn’t your stunt with Myste teach you anything?_ **

She watches the flames dance among the twigs.

"I don't know what to do now. I just… I just need to be alone. Really alone."

She throws an annoyed glare at Fray. The dark knight crosses his arms.

**_Fine. Feel free to grovel about your problems like you always do. Just don't come crying for my company. I am all the common sense you’ve got._ **

"Out with you."

Fray disappears when she blinks. She groans and closes her eyes. Sometimes her apparent madness worries her.

Would she one day become a bitter dark passenger for another lost soul?

She hopes to never find out.

 

 

Pale morning greets her with a sharp burning smell. Did Alphinaud doze off during the watch and let the fire to get out of control?

As she shakes off the shackles of sleep, she remembers. Alphinaud is not here. He will never be sleeping through his watch again, at least not in her company.

But the smell of burning is getting stronger as the wind picks up. She quickly packs up and stamps out her tiny fire pit.

Taking off her glove, she licks her finger and sticks it out to feel the direction of the wind. It’s blowing from the west. She heaves her sword on the shoulder and starts running.

Why? Why is she doing this? Why is she struggling? Why can’t she just let go of the problems that aren’t hers?

But those are pointless questions. Yes, she left Eorzea behind. No, she can’t stop being who she is.

_A fool. I am a reckless fool._

As she draws closer, she can hear the sounds of distress. Crying, shouting. Screaming. Dying. Shots fired from guns, blades clashing against blades.

This close to the heart of the Empire?

She leaps into the midst of the battle, carried along by the dark rage within her. Powerlessness turning to hatred, guilt turning to anger, all of it boiling up inside of her, manifesting in the crimson, bloody flecks of light dancing around her. Almost beautiful.

She swings her sword in a savage cleave, shearing an imperial soldier in two at the waist. Dry soil eagerly drinks up the blood.

The soldiers seemed to be laying waste to a small village. But something is wrong. The people fighting them off… they are too well armed and armored, though not bearing signs of any army.

_Is that a… rebellion? Here?_

Her moment of distraction provokes an attack from a soldier, who tries to take her head off with his gunblade. How ambitious. How quaint.

The soldier’s arm flies free with his weapon as he screams on the ground. Her massive sword makes an almost buzzing sound as it swings through the air, cutting and slashing, ripping through armor and flesh.

The sun is well above the horizon when the last of the soldiers is finished. They tried to turn tail. She didn’t let them. It feels _good_ to let her frustration out.

“Thank you, warrior, for helping us. The battle was lost before you showed up.”

A young man covered in blood - probably not his - gives her a courteous bow. She nods slowly and turns away, leaning on her sword.

“If we may ask, who are you?”

She thinks about it for a moment. Who is she really, now that she has left everything that made her who she was?

“No one of consequence.”

The man chuckles.

“That’s hardly true. You were fighting the imperial soldiers, and you do not look to be of Garlean blood.”

She doesn’t contradict him, merely looking out in the distance.

“We could use help, to be frank. I…” He realizes that she is not listening. “Perhaps you could speak with our leader?”

“Why?”

“Because you do not seem to be bearing any love to the Empire, and you are in the heart of the enemy territory. We could provide you with information, or perhaps even assistance.”

“And what would be expected in return?”

“That is not for me to decide.”

No, it’s not.

_I just can’t be happy without some sort of struggle, am I._

“Fine. But don’t expect anything… in all likelihood, I will still leave.”

“Understandable. Just please, follow us. You can make your decision after you meet him.”

 

 

Her escorts tried to converse with her during the trip, but she ignored their words. After a while, they got the hint and just left her alone.

In all honesty, and that was all she could hope to be to herself, she only moved to be moving. Afraid that if she stops she will not be able to start again.

They tied a blindfold around her head for the last part of the journey. Not quite trusting after all. Good for them.

Carefully walking along the path, she let herself to be pulled toward their base of operations. Eventually, she felt the air change. It has become warmer, staler and more humid. A cave?

“Commander…”

She barely listens to what her escorts say. She can hear a lot of voices echoing off the walls, sounds of multiple sets of boots. Eventually, the blindfold is untied, and she blinks a few times. The world comes into focus and she looks around.

This is indeed a cave. She looks over the surprisingly high ceiling, the walls draped in icicles of stone, the still mirror lake at her feet.

A dark-skinned man in rugged clothing is standing before her, studying her with keen eyes. She can’t help but notice a line of what looks like Ascian masks tied to his belt. Trophies?

“When my scouts told me they brought someone I’d like to speak with, I did not expect it to be _you_.”

She tilts her head to the side, frowning.

“Of course, you do not know who I am. You’ve never seen me without my mask.”

“Mask?..”

He pulls off one of the masks from his belt and throws it at her feet. She blinks. At first, she thought it was an Ascian mask like the others, but… it doesn’t look right. It doesn’t have the same sharp edges and malevolent swirls. It’s duller in color, as if scorched in a fire.

A recognition dawns at last. Her eyes narrow, her head snapping up. Yes, she has seen this mask before.

“Gaius van Baelsar.”

The man nods.

“Indeed.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“And I am dead in everything but flesh… at least to anyone who knew me. And to the Empire.” Gaius smiles unexpectedly, his solemn expression lightening. “Do you assassins give a money back guarantee?”

She can’t help but chuckle under her breath.

“To be fair, you were asking to be knocked down a few rungs. How did you survive?”

“By not giving up. Digging myself out of the rubble after making a decision… That I will make Ascians pay for what they did to my people. Hunt them all down and exterminate them, root and stem.”

“And that is why you’re rebelling against the Empire?” She shakes her head. “You’ve lost me.”

“Yes… I take it you don’t know. And here I thought your Scions have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“We were pretty busy with rebellions elsewhere. I thought everyone in the world knew as much. But stay on topic… What don’t I know exactly?”

 

 

She eyes the steaming cup of tea with suspicion. But then, deciding that that for Gaius to try and poison her would be just stupid, she takes a sip. The hot liquid scolds her tongue and she cringes, forcing it down.

“I can hardly believe it… An Ascian? Founder of the Empire?”

“What better way to sow chaos needed to achieve their goals?”

“I suppose…”

They moved to a smaller cave within the cave, into what must serve as Gaius’ office and sleeping quarters. She is leaning on the edge of his desk, stuffing food into her mouth as quickly as politeness would allow. She is absolutely famished.

The former legatus watches her intently.

“Now, should I expect the others of your order traipsing around the region, causing interference? It took an awfully long time to arrange things… I’d hate to see them ruined. Though, you have a penchant to do just that…”

She shakes her head.

“No… no one else is here. I’m alone.”

“I bear no ill will towards…”

“I’m serious, Gaius. I’m not hiding anything. I came here alone. No one other Scion even knows that I’m here, probably.”

His curving eyebrow shows how much he believes her. She meets his eyes, hoping that he would see the truth in her.

“In that case… why are you here?”

She bites her lip.

“It’s… a long story.”

“I would imagine. If what you say is true, you went AWOL. I can’t think of anything that would make you want to do that… so it must be quite complicated.”

He is watching her, expectantly. He can’t really be thinking she would lay it all out, can he?

“What happened to you, Warrior?”

She raises her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

Gaius gives her a noncommittal shrug.

“When we last met, you were… burning. Intense. Righteous. You knew your path was true, even if not all would agree with it, least of all me. But now… your fire has gone out. I can’t explain it better. Something must have happened to you.”

She looks at him in disbelief.

“Is it that obvious?” She blurts out and covers her face with her hands with a groan.

“I want to say I know you quite well, even if we weren’t on friendly terms.”

She peers at him through her fingers.

“What does it say about me, that people who know me best are my former enemies?”

Gaius barks out a short laugh.

“That perhaps you need better friends.”

Gaius. Estinien. Ysayle. Zenos. All of them have been on the sharp end of her weapon at one point or another. But they all understood her better than anyone else.

“I find that the likes of us tend to show more of ourselves in the crucible of battle than in the comfort of peace.”

She nods. Zenos once said the same thing. Indeed, the only times she can think of him showing genuine emotion was in battle. Well, aside from… she feels the beginnings of a traitorous flush of blood to her face and ears.

Her friendship with Estinien has begun during their duel, during which they for the first time saw each other for what they really were. Ysayle has fought her as Lady Iceheart and Shiva before joining her quest, the quest which in the end has cost her her life. She gave it up to save them.

If that was not friendship, then what was?

And then, Gaius. So knowing. So understanding. It took him only a few minutes to see what the other Scions have never come to understand: how deathly tired she was of being a hero.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for your raid?”

“That’s the secret to good leadership: delegation.” There is a smug smile on Gaius’ lips. “I trust my captains. The machine must run smoothly even when you’re not there to steer it. Something you never quite grasped.”

“I’m not the leader of Scions. I never was.”  
  
“Perhaps not in the title. But they all looked to you. You were irreplaceable… and so you had to personally do everything. But we are not here to bicker about the running of your order…” He gestures to the armchair next to him. “Sit. I would hear your story. It doesn’t seem like anyone else cared to.”

The weight of his words is like crushing boulders of an avalanche. He is right. No one else cared to know her story. She was the idol, the hero, the shining example. But she was also a person… but no one cared about that, not really. Not since…

_She is sitting near the roaring fire, wrapped in a blanket. Her torso tightly bandaged to stop the bleeding. Alphinaud is a pile of misery on the nearby chair, and Tataru is on the verge of tears._

_A soft clinking sound makes her look up. Haurchefant is setting three steaming mugs on the table. He smiles at her warmly, and the whole world seems lighter._

_“Are you content to remain a broken blade? Is there no flame hot enough to reforge you?”_

“What happened to that bright young girl that brought Castrum Meridanum down on top of me?”

“I’m not her, not anymore.” She sits down on the chair and closes her eyes with a sigh. “Very well… I’ll tell you what happened after. When our fight was over…”

 

 

“... and so I ran. I just… I couldn’t stay. Couldn’t deal with the guilt I felt over… well, everything. That’s when I ran into your soldiers. The fight was near to where I set my camp, and I awoke to the smell of burning… I guess old instincts are hard to defy. I had to investigate… and here I am.”

“And here you are…” he muses quietly, his fingers stroking his chin thoughtfully.

She told him everything. It felt strange to finally put words to her memories. It felt good. She doesn’t know how long she was talking. It felt like hours.

She told him about Crystal Braves and the betrayal. She told him about Ishgard and Heaven's Ward. She told him about Estinien and Ysayle. She told him about Haurchefant and what his death really meant to her.

An understanding dawned in his eyes, but he nodded and let her continue.

When she got to the part about Zenos and her desertion, he swore under his breath. After a moment of hesitation, she told him about what happened the night before last. Gaius just stared at her, silent.

“It puts me and my men in a precarious position.” He finally says, getting up and starting to pace along his room. “With what you told me… well, it means that the crown prince might come crashing down on us at any moment. We will have to move quickly.”

“Sorry. I really didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t know. But you might be able to help. You see, we were in this area for a good reason.” He stops and looks her in the eye. “Tell me, do you know anything about a compound called “The Black Rose”?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd here we come to the Requiem for Heroes plotline.
> 
> I know this chapter is a bit more disjointed than the previous ones, but it's what I have. As always, let me know what you think! I'm looking forward to your comments :)


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